Doing two equally important things this evening: my taxes and updating this story. Apologies for the delay on this one; I got really distracted editing the cover for the possibly two people who read this story on desktop ^^"
This chapter marks the start of canon characters I've taken liberties with making an appearance. I've done my best to keep the core of who these characters are in the manga, but as I want to fill this world with interesting, colorful characters they've been expanded upon quite a bit. This should be the final chapter dedicated to exposition and descriptive worldbuilding, unless I've forgotten something that comes up later on.
Class at Tōtsuki started whenever instructors felt like teaching them, apparently. Takumi's first lecture was at 10am the following day, and he learned from his fellow first-year dormmates that attendance wasn't even required.
"If you need the lecture, you show up and take notes," Daigo said with a shrug (and Takumi had finally taken a few minutes to learn everyone's names). "Otherwise, there are communal kitchens available for students to mess around in, and if you've won or been given a private space, you can go off and use those as well. We're only really graded on the practicals, anyhow, and as long as you pass the nationwide exit exam at the end of your third year, academic classes aren't the most important thing in the world."
Takumi blinked. "I was going to say that makes sense, but it really doesn't."
He got a shrug in response. "Eh. You get used to it."
Takumi still attended the lecture on flavor receptors on the tongue, taught by an instructor who'd apparently been a part of Tōtsuki's 83rd generation before dropping out to apprentice in Brazil. She delivered the lecture with a dryness that Takumi could only connect to the fact that there were all of twenty students half-dozing off at desks while he took the bare minimum notes he needed to understand the content.
His afternoon practical was much more well-attended, as well as much stricter in tone. An older white man had walked in front of them and explained, in perfect Japanese, that his name was Chapelle Roland-sensei, that this was a basic technique practical, and that if they didn't produce a perfect example of what he wanted, they'd be failed at the end of the class period. Takumi nervously began tapping the counter with a finger; this was more along what he'd expected after reading so much about Tōtsuki, but it was still a bit unnerving to witness first-hand.
"Your partners will be chosen for you by lottery," Chapelle said. He began to unfurl bits of paper with their names written on it. Takumi didn't recognize any of the other names given, but perked up when he heard he was partnered with a boy named Saitō Sōmei, who held a large sheathed blade in one hand and wore a calm, almost patient expression. He was also not perfectly in uniform, wearing his blazer like a cloak that hugged his shoulders.
Sōmei's nose wrinkled upon seeing what Chapelle wrote on the board after all of the students in the room had paired up. "Boeuf bourguignon. A boorish dish, if you ask me."
"It's not the most interesting thing in the world to make, but I've made it before," Takumi commented. "Is there any part of it that you particularly want to do?"
Sōmei gave him a once-over. "Pardon my rudeness, but is this not a French dish?"
Takumi blinked. "Uh. Well, I don't know anyone else who spells beef as 'boeuf'."
"A very astute observation." Takumi had the distinct feeling he was being messed around with. "And what would a child of an Italian eatery know of French cuisine?"
Oh, so that's what's happening. "Enough to know that it's just a specific kind of beef stew," he said stiffly. "Do you need me to prove something to you, Saitō-san?" Their classmates had already started preparing ingredients, even as their workbench lay empty apart from the tension between them. Takumi couldn't hear anything, but he was confident that there was a rising murmur as everyone else noticed the stand-off at their station.
Sōmei carelessly swung his sword down in front of him, hilt up, and sat down on his stool. "Far be it from me to doubt your ability," he said airily, "but I don't know if I could allow my cooking to be tarnished if your hands are as unpracticed as your reputation implies. If I find the work you do to prepare to cook this dish adequate, then I will happily hinge my name on your efforts. If not, I'm sure Chapelle-sensei will be open to my working on my own."
"If that's how you want to do it, fine." Takumi turned away from him. "How long would you like to stew the meat for?"
Sōmei leaned forward, resting more of his weight on his sword. "A proper boeuf bourguignon wants close to two hours on the stovetop, does it not?"
Takumi bit back a correction and glanced at the clock. That gave him all of ten minutes to prepare everything. Even for him, it would be a strain, but he didn't have much other choice. "Fine. Stand back, if you don't want to help."
The other boy held his hands up, palms open, and took a step back, dragging his sword along with him.
Takumi gave himself a moment to think through his process. Most of the ingredients that went into boeuf bourguignon had to be prepared in a different cut, and the result would only be apparent by how tender everything was after it had been cooked. Otherwise, it was a fairly standard prepared-in-one-pot dish.
He took a breath. He let it out. And then he began.
He took care of the proteins first, trimming the fat off of a section of beef brisket that had been chosen for them and giving a handful of bacon a rough chop. He set the bacon aside with a small amount of oil to help it crisp and glanced at the equipment in the back that none of the other students had touched. He noticed one machine in particular and rushed over to it with his prepared beef and a handful of aromatics. He stopped by the table of essential ingredients to notice that the two kinds of wine offered were a Shiraz and a Sauvignon Blanc, and he paused, baffled by how much of the white had been taken. Takumi also noticed that there had been a third bottle tucked away in the back of the pantry, untouched from how it had been hidden. He chanced a second to reach back and pulled out a bottle of Pinot Noir; it was even sourced from the proper region of France.
"It's like you've never had to root through a pantry before," he muttered under his breath, claiming the wine. He continued his brisk pace to the back of the room, where he busied himself with a marinade.
As soon as the meat was prepared, Takumi ran back to his station to set out a carrot, cloves of garlic, and an onion on a cutting board. Sōmei raised an eyebrow upon seeing them all laid out together, but whatever he was going to say was silenced when Takumi took out his mezzaluna and began chopping all of the ingredients at once. The carrots he left in heartier chunks while the onions were diced and the garlic finely minced. He set the mezzaluna to a side and was about to start quartering mushrooms when Sōmei finally stood up.
"If I may step in, I'll begin with the bacon?"
Takumi glanced up and simply nodded, handing him the rest of the wine. "The beef needs another couple of minutes; I'll have it ready by the time you're taking the bacon out."
That earned him a narrowed look of comprehension and a nod.
After a final whirlwind of motion, Sōmei and Takumi were left to tend to their pot of stew before the last steps of the recipe. Takumi looked around the room and was surprised to see that despite starting after everyone else, the pair of them were one of the first groups waiting on their beef to stew.
"You did something while you were at the back of the classroom," Sōmei said without preamble. "What additional step did you deem necessary for this dish?"
"There's a vacuum sealer back there," Takumi said, gesturing behind him. "They're usually used for storing foods, but there's a way to quickly marinate certain ingredients using one. Denser foods don't really benefit from it, but it's a common enough technique for steaks. I adapted it for the meat in our bourguignon. Ideally, I'd want to marinate it for at least thirty minutes, but ten minutes of marination is better than none."
Sōmei's eyebrows were raised by the time Takumi finished explaining. "Interesting. Are you the type of chef to rely on such machinery? The Fifth Seat is known for her knowledge in molecular gastronomy, so it's not surprising that more high-tech options are readily available in teaching classrooms."
Takumi had no idea who he was talking about and just ended up shrugging. "I don't know much about using technology in cooking, and I'm not too interested in learning. I try to keep up with new advancements if they claim to speed up some part of the process since it usually means it's sacrificing quality somehow. But when things work, you might as well use them."
"A practical perspective." Sōmei gave their stew a stir. "So, would you say your style best fits the cuisine of your home, then?"
Takumi gave himself a moment to mull the question over. "I don't know if I'd say that," he said. "I'm definitely more familiar with it and I focus on the Italian style of cooking because it's what I want to do with my life, but I'm trying to master other styles as well to incorporate them into my own dishes."
Sōmei studied him. "Again, practical." He settled back on the stool he sat on, though his gaze never left Takumi. "If you're free after this, Aldini-san, I'd like to invite you to show me your own style, unfettered from the requirements of classes and grades. You interest me, and you're one of the first that I've met in a while who have."
"Oh, that'd be—" Takumi remembered something. "Actually, I can't do anything today. I have to pick up groceries before tonight; I promised to make something for Yukihira-senpai."
Sōmei blinked. "Yukihira," he repeated slowly.
"Um, yes?"
"As in Saiba-senpai? Saiba Sōma?"
"Yes— that's what he called himself at the opening ceremony, right?"
Sōmei looked nonplussed. "You do realize, of course, that the First Seat having an interest in a first-year is unusual?"
Takumi tried to tamp down the blush that he was sure was washing over him. "Well, yes, I had the feeling," he said, "but also, when the First Seat asks you to make him something, you can't say no, can you?"
"That's a logical rebuttal. Far be it from me to infringe on your appointment with Saiba-senpai; if you don't see yourself having time today, perhaps we can meet during the free period after tomorrow's practical, before the Faction Shokugeki in the evening."
"Faction? Shokugeki?"
The arrogant above-you expression Takumi absolutely hated started to cross Sōmei's face again. "Did you not know anything of Tōtsuki before transferring in?"
Takumi felt his hackles starting to rise. "Didn't I say that at the opening ceremony?"
"Very fair." Sōmei peered at the pot one last time. "I believe we have just under half an hour left on this dish, which is more than an adequate amount of time to explain. Let's go in order.
"Factions are… alliances, for lack of a better word, that connect students with a shared cooking philosophy together. Technically, they're RSes that allow membership in other RSes as long as you keep up with whatever new development they're pursuing. There are two established Factions in Tōtsuki; there's been a history of students who aren't allowed into either attempting to create a third coalition, but they always end up unable to survive the infighting. Both Factions have rigorous standards that you must reach before being given membership, and generally you are expected to choose a single Faction to stay with. If a student were to pursue membership with both, they wouldn't be shunned or anything, but the nature of the Factions is that their core philosophies clash horribly, so any one student is more likely to find themself drawn to one over the other."
"Are you in a Faction?" Takumi asked.
Sōmei examined the pommel of his blade. "I've considered it," he said slowly, "and I've made strides towards membership in either. However, I believe my cooking skill must be developed more before I head off on one clear path, and as such I have not made any overt overtures towards one over the other."
Takumi tapped a finger the counter, waiting for Sōmei to continue.
"The two factions are named after the two most well-known precious metals. The Silver Faction is named for its namesake's symbolic nature. Sophisticated. Elevated. A holder of clarity. Those in the Silver Faction value tradition and the ingredients used in cooking, and many of its members seek to bring out the best in each single element that is put into their food. They've mastered classic techniques and emphasize studying culinary history as the canvas upon which to create. The Silver Faction believes that the nature of your food is reliant on every ingredient coming together as it's meant to, prepared as it must be prepared. Technique, timing, exacting measures: those are all trained into you there.
"The Gold Faction is named that way for how malleable the metal is, as well as how precious it is. Those in the Gold Faction are aware of the same techniques as the Silver Faction are, and its members are as equally versed in the research that its counterpart emphasizes, but they don't stop there. They view ingredients as just one of many factors in cooking. They claim it doesn't matter if your preparation is perfect as long as the final dish is. Compared to the Silver Faction, the Gold Faction has failed horrendously: experiments resulting in something inedible, entire Shokugeki lost to a random whim that crossed someone's mind at the arena. They've also succeeded far beyond the Silver Faction's capacity for daring to mix together something unorthodox and potentially creating a new standard that future Silver Faction members will fervently study.
"So, you can see how it's almost impossible for one student to desire to be in both Factions."
"I assume the best students are in Factions?"
"Most," Sōmei admitted, "but not all of them, historically. There have been a few graduates who simply focused on their own craft and didn't bother with them, but more often than not, the members of the Elite Ten are high-ranking members in their Factions."
Takumi nodded as he stood to brown mushrooms for the bourguignon. "You've said Shokugeki twice now; will you explain that?"
Sōmei watched their mushrooms merrily cook in a skillet. "Shokugeki is the foundation upon which Tōtsuki is built," he said. "They're cooking showdowns that necessitate participants to wager something as a prize for the other. Sometimes it's access to certain buildings on campus. Other times, it's a student's expulsion."
Takumi nearly faltered with the skillet. "You can do that?"
"Of course. If you were facing an opponent who you were sure your skills outmatched and wanted something from them— a whole section of campus, access to the research from their RS, or what have you— you must wager anything that matches your demand in value. Sometimes, your place at Tōtsuki is the only thing that balances the scale."
Takumi gestured for Sōmei to open the pot of boeuf bourguignon and tossed the mushrooms in. He gave it a stir. "I knew how valuable being an alumnus of this school was," he said slowly, "but I don't think I ever fully internalized how valuable everyone else sees it as."
"It's quite the serious accolade to graduate, yes." Sōmei picked up the bowl that they'd decided to plate their stew on. "Anyhow, I suppose you could technically make it all the way through your tenure at Tōtsuki without participating in a single Shokugeki, but it's commonplace to challenge each other over trifles just to see how you compare. To qualify to be on the Elite Ten, one needs to have a positive Shokugeki record, as well. Official Shokugeki count doesn't start until a student reaches the high school level, but the middle schoolers practice their skills on each other and hold non-wager Shokugeki almost daily. The one tomorrow is going to have a much bigger spotlight than they normally have, since it's a Shokugeki between high-ranking members of the two Factions over privileges they've agreed to share."
"So it's going to be a lot bigger, then?"
Sōmei finished the final garnish on their boeuf bourguignon and gestured for Takumi to make any last-minute adjustments. There wasn't anything too off the mark, so he just waved it aside. "Five judges instead of the standard three. A much larger time limit. It's what's expected from the third-years."
"I see."
The two students walked up to Chapelle-sensei, presented him with their bourguignon, nodded at his near-smile and sharp praise, and left the room after receiving their A and cleaning up after themselves.
"Test kitchen 3 in building C-2?" Sōmei said.
Takumi nodded. "I'll see you then, Saitō-san."
The boy swung his blade back to his shoulders. "I look forward to it, Aldini-san." He turned as if to leave.
"Ah, one thing, before you go?"
Sōmei turned to blink at him over his shoulder.
"This is embarrassing— where's the nearest market?" Takumi asked, feeling the flush creep up on him again. "My dormmates were no help; I think they expected me to somehow grow my own ingredients in six hours."
Sōma arrived exactly when he'd warned Takumi he'd show up, which, according to Fumio, was extremely out of character for him. As it was, he walked in as Takumi was in the middle of stirring something in a pot.
He blinked. The first-year had four pots boiling away on the stovetop, as well as three more sitting on coasters on the countertop and two trays of aspic already laid out to be cut into cubes. Separately, an entire open carton of eggs sat innocently out, its contents already mixed into a giant bowl and scrambled. Two rice cookers were running on the dining table; from the way one steamed, it was full of readied rice.
"This looks like a mess," Sōma commented.
Takumi froze where he stood at the stove and whipped around, startled. "Ah— Yukihira-senpai! I'm sorry, I'm not quite ready—"
"You're good, you're good. Did I get you enough ingredients for all of this?"
Takumi ran his hands through his hair, pressing down on any cowlicks that might have formed. "I had enough for the initial taste test and for a couple of trials, but I did end up running and getting a few more things to try— the first idea I had didn't end up working out, which I expected, so I had to adjust the proportions and try again. I have at least three versions that I think are passable enough to show what I was thinking, but they obviously aren't as polished as what you'd made, and—"
Sōma cut him off with a raised hand. "Deep breath," he said. "Two things: one, you're doing this as a favor for me. I asked you to prepare this. You don't have to explain yourself at all."
Takumi nodded wordlessly, feeling his heart try to slow down but unable to actually relax.
"Two, don't talk about your cooking like you need to excuse it. Whenever you make something, make it the best you can, and if you can't do that, pretend that it's the best thing you've ever made." He cracked a smile. "Chefs are all full of hot air. Half of the experience is believing them. A customer will believe whatever you tell them; if you're telling them that it's not as good as someone else's cooking, they'll take your word on it and tell everyone else that. I'm sure you had people at your diner lining up for your cooking specifically, even though you were just a kid."
Takumi nodded more sharply at that correction.
Sōma shot him a grin. "Now, then! Show me what you've made."
"Well, the main two things I decided to play with were the alcohol choice and the stock used in the aspic. When you're using a similar cut of chicken as a base, it's hard to completely alter its impact on the flavor so it didn't feel worth it to experiment with the preparation there. I've got a drier white wine, a Marsala wine, and a red to start with…"
When Fumio got back a couple of hours later from her own pantry restocking trip, she arrived to find Sōma and Takumi fighting over the contents of a pot, one holding the other back from dumping what looked like three cups of mixed wine in. She shooed them out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon and told them to cool off in the garden while she cleaned everything up.
"For the record," Takumi said as he tugged a weed out of a patch of spinach, "I still don't think mixing Marsala with anything would have improved that flavor."
Sōma scowled down at where green onions were determinedly sprouting from the soil, not quite matured. "The flavor profile could have heightened the aspic's aftertaste; if you haven't tried it yet, we'll never know."
"I might not have tried it, but I can guarantee that that much Marsala would have ruined the flavor you were trying to get out of the white," Takumi grumbled.
The two of them sulked in silence for a bit. Takumi glared some more at the spinach.
Then, he heard Sōma begin to chuckle. "Man," he said, "I haven't been in this much trouble with Fumio-san since I lived here." Takumi glanced over to see Sōma looking back. "You're a bad influence, Aldini-san."
"Me?" Takumi spluttered. "If you hadn't arranged all of this, we wouldn't be out here!"
"Then how would you have proven your point from last night?" Sōma stared at the gradually darkening sky. "You can theorize as much as you want, but you have to show what you mean through action."
Takumi couldn't help his curiosity. "Is that a Faction thing?"
Sōma studied him. "Not really," he said, his expression still appraising. "I mean, it helps, I guess, but it's mostly a me thing. Megumi definitely gets on my case for how many ingredients I go through trying to prepare for anything."
"I can't see her doing that," Takumi said. "She seems too calm."
"She's calm until she's not," Sōma muttered.
The two of them sat in silence for a while longer.
"Yukihira-senpai?"
"Hmm?"
"Why did you decide to come back tonight?"
Sōma glanced over at him. "What do you mean?"
"My partner in Chapelle-sensei's class invited me to show him my actual cooking but I told him I had to meet up with you." Takumi kicked at the ground, pointedly away from the garden beds. "He pointed out how odd it was that you were so interested in a random first-year student."
Sōma smirked. "I guess," he said insolently. "Did you know that I was a transfer student myself?"
That was news to Takumi.
"Joined in my first year of high school, pissed off everyone at the opening ceremony, immediately had to survive class partnered with Megumi," Sōma listed off on his fingers. "I know I don't take everything seriously, but I cared even less back then. Ended up having to fight nearly every week to prove I deserved to be here, let alone the praise I was receiving. Got through all of the first-year requirements as best as I could, and then halfway through second year word got around who my pops is.
"I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure you don't have a secret famous dad's reputation to rely on."
Takumi snorted. "Yeah, not really."
"Hey." A hand landed on Takumi's shoulder. "You're already doing better than I did— you already have a friend from outside of Polar Star?"
"I don't know if Saitō-san would call me his 'friend', but… I guess so? We're meeting up to cook tomorrow, at any rate."
"Again, still better than my first year." Sōma hesitated over his next few words. "Aldini-san, I know that Ibusaki-kun explained how part of Elite Ten duties include choosing an apprentice to train. Traditionally, people choose their apprentice at the end of their first year on the council and start their training between school years, but you don't need to choose one until the final semester before you graduate."
"Um, okay?" Takumi said.
Sōma smirked at him. "Aldini-san, I haven't chosen one yet."
Takumi stared at him openly at that confession.
He just shrugged. "Sometimes, Elite Ten members look at the middle-school students and claim an incoming first-year; that's who the incoming second-years usually look for. I looked at them all, but everyone was either already claimed or didn't interest me."
Takumi swallowed. "Why are you telling me this?"
Sōma ignored him. "I guess I'll have to choose someone soon, though," he said with a sigh. "Maybe someone in this year's Autumn Election will prove interesting. I'll have to remember to watch the finals for it."
"Autumn Election finals?" Takumi repeated.
"Yeah. We're starting to prepare for it, even if the Training Camp comes first." Sōma's smirk widened to a grin. "You'll be sure to do well, won't you, Aldini-san?"
Autumn was but a few months away, and suddenly the anxiety of honing his craft enough to prove himself by then began to slowly creep up on him. "Do you think you'll start searching before then?"
"Hmm… I don't think I'll have to," Sōma said airily. "After all, I have some idea of someone I want to look into now. If they can't prove themself then, I guess I'll find someone else."
Takumi nodded slowly.
"Let's go see if Fumio-san is willing to let us come back in now, eh?" Sōma asked, moving towards the dorm. Takumi slowly followed him, mind already racing at the possibility of working under the third-year.
Disclaimer: I've never made boeuf bourguignon (beef burgundy for anyone who are wondering what the French means) before in my life; this chapter was written with the wonderful crutch of Julia Child's recipe. It sounds like a pretty good stew, even if it requires close to a whole bottle of wine. I thought about replicating the salt sabotage for this retelling, but I figured that Sōmei was too alert for anyone to get it past him and Takumi would have his hands full speedrunning prep and wouldn't need an additional problem to overcome. As a note, it doesn't actually take two hours to make this particular dish (I mean, it can, but recipes with shorter cooking times are also readily available); the time limit was mostly a test to see if Takumi actually could cook as well as he claimed he could or if he was full of hot air.
